


I will not mourn my losses

by theelusiveflamingo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Creepy Cousin Cersei, F/M, Gen, Suspicious Deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theelusiveflamingo/pseuds/theelusiveflamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At her abusive husband's funeral, Cersei is too triumphant to care about the mess his death has left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I will not mourn my losses

The day they finally put Robert in the ground was cold and threatened rain, but Cersei preferred it that way.  It was best that nothing about the day seemed like a celebration.

She nudged the toe of her shoe into the freshly-scattered dirt at the base of the headstone.  She did this lightly, just in case, imagining that if she poked too hard a vengeful arm would shoot up from the grave and Robert would smack her across the face one last time.  She shivered in the wind of the looming nor’easter.  Her imagination had always been far more active than she cared to let on to anyone, and it had been getting worse.  She had dreams so vivid they frightened her; she’d decided to tell no one about them, not even Jaime. 

But today was victorious.  From now on any dash that followed Robert Baratheon’s name would be accompanied by _two_ dates, not just one, and that fact alone, Cersei thought smiling, would mean she’d probably never sleep badly again.

Behind her the sound of the funeral party was receding comfortingly as the friends-of-the-family and Robert’s former business partners (Cersei didn’t know why they’d bothered to show up, now that their colleague was just a rotting corpse full of alcohol, but she supposed old habits died hard) filed out of the cemetery.  She let her private smile collapse into a practiced blank stare and turned around.

The remaining guests were unsurprisingly divided: a mourning crowd of black hair to her right, the golden curls of her own family chatting quietly on the left.  Of course, some of them were missing.  Tyrion had already walked Father back to the limo.  Considering how bad the stomach cancer had gotten it was nothing short of a miracle he’d even made it through the service.  Tywin Lannister remained so stubborn Cersei couldn’t help but be proud of him, but even so— _the midget and the dying man walking together while the whole world laughs_.  It was embarrassing.

Over in the little huddle of Baratheon black, Stannis Baratheon was mumbling to Renly.  Cersei’s skin prickled, and this time not from the March wind.  Humorless Stannis had not felt much love for his older brother, but he wasn’t stupid, either, and his sense of justice was so absurdly large it had to have been compensating for something.

 _Thankfully I’m smarter than him,_ Cersei thought, and walked over to finish cleaning up the mess Lancel had made.

“But I always thought he’d go out just like this,” Renly was saying.  Next to him his boyfriend Loras nodded, pain painted carefully across his pretty face.  Cersei wanted to yell _You fucking liar!  You hated him, too.  He was always calling you a fag_.

“Drunk in his car with a tree branch through his stomach?”  Stannis asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Well, it’s not like I ever thought too much about the details, that’s a little morbid.  But yes, I figured he’d die doing something irresponsible.  They said his BAC was—what did they say it was?”  Renly tugged at his black and gold-striped tie and turned to Loras.  “Do you remember what they told us?”

“ _I_ remember.”  Stannis had gritted his teeth.

“Driving like that would’ve killed _anyone_ ,” Renly said, “and you know, Robert had more balls than brains, anyway, so he probably just thought he could make it.”

“Right, it’s _crazy_ what booze can do to how you think,” Loras gasped, his voice higher-pitched than even Lancel’s.  “That’s why Ren and I decided to give up drinking, except for _maybe_ a glass of champagne when we finally tie the knot.”  He simpered.

“Stannis, make some room.”  Selyse Baratheon’s pinched lips curved into sympathy as she noticed Cersei approaching.   _How nice, she waxed her mustache for the occasion._ “Honey, come here.”  The circle of Baratheons widened so Cersei could fit in amongst these people she hated.  “The boys won’t stop sharing their theories.”  Being called _honey_ made Cersei feel personally slighted.  She wondered if she could get away with clawing Selyse’s pale grey eyes out.   _It’s not my fault, Officer.  I was driven mad by grief.   Selyse will forgive me—won’t you, honey?_

Cersei sighed.  “Funerals are awful,” she decided to say.  This couldn’t possibly cause any controversy.  Who didn’t hate funerals?  (Except for her, right now.)    “I’ve been to too many.”

Selyse clicked her tongue and fidgeted with the tacky cross she always seemed to wear around her neck these days .  “Weren’t you young when your mother died?”

“We were eight.”

There were cat hairs on Selyse’s drab black coat.  She clicked again.  “There’ll be less laughter in the world now that Robert’s gone, Shireen and I were just saying this morning.”

The hair that Cersei had tamed into a knot at the top of her head was growing too heavy.  _He was a monster and Father never believed me._ She felt really sick now, though all wouldn’t be lost if she vomited.  With a little good aim it would splatter all over Selyse’s shoes.  

“I hate wearing black, don’t you?” she said, finally.  “I look like a corpse in black.”

Unsurprisingly, Stannis had been completely unable to let the subject drop, and he interrupted.  _Goddamn it Lancel.  I should have just done it myself._ “Cersei, I’m sure you must be confused as well.”

“Confused…?”

“By how Robert thought it was a good idea to get in his car in the state he was in.”

“He was _drunk_ ,” Cersei said quietly.  _Let it drop, Stannis._ “He was a complete idiot when he was drunk.  Is it really that surprising?  Or have you forgotten?”  She stared into each grave Baratheon face.  “I keep thinking maybe if the tree branch hadn’t gone through his stomach, he’d still be—”

“Ew!”  Shireen Baratheon had been quiet until now, but now there were tears running down the hideous purple stain birthmark that covered the entire left side of her face.  She burrowed into Selyse’s cat-hair coat.  “Mom, tell her to _stop_.”

Shireen was a freak, but she had the right idea.  Cersei balled her hands into fists and rubbed her eyes.  As she did this, she lightly brushed her thumbnails against each eyeball.  It stung, but when she pulled her hands away, tears were starting to spill out onto her cheeks.  Stannis looked uncomfortable.  Renly and Loras had matching looks of false concern on their faces.  It was refreshing to know they cared as little for her as she did for them.

“It’s terrible, isn’t it?  It’s such a shame.”  Selyse unclasped her handbag.  “I think I have some Kleenex in here--”

“Don’t worry, I got this.” 

Cersei almost died herself from the relief the deep voice brought her.  Everything would be all right, now.  Jaime was here, and they would be together, _together_.  “This is what little brothers are for.”  He spun Cersei around gracefully to face him.  She leaned into his firm chest, the familiar hard muscle comforting her almost instantly. 

“ _Little_ brother?” Renly laughed.  _Why would you bring this up now?_ Cersei thought.  They were supposed to look exactly alike, but at one point in high school Jaime had kept growing.

“She’s older than me.  By like thirty seconds, but she’s never let me forget it.”  His arms circled around her back.  _Careful, Jaime_.  He sounded too cheerful.  His life was easy, easier than hers, and it had made him reckless.

“Aw c’mon, don’t cry, sweetling,” Jaime said to her, and his arms squeezed her tight and pressed her even closer against him.  Cersei listened to his familiar heartbeat.  She liked thinking about how it was the first sound she’d ever heard, the first thing her little ears must have picked up on in the womb. 

“Nice tears,” he whispered in her ear, and she pressed her lips delicately to his chest with the world’s smallest kiss in response.  _I am good at this._

“Sweetling, that’s so sweet, Jaime.  I always wanted Shireen to have a little brother or sister, it would have been so nice.”

Stannis cleared his throat.  Cersei bit her lip to keep from laughing.  Just tonight, one Last Fucking Supper with these people and then they’d be history just like Robert, just one more thing she’d survived and won. 

And then she and Jaime could talk about what they might do next.

“We’ve been having a weird conversation over here,” Renly said.  “Stannis is obsessed with the way Robert died.”

Jaime laughed.  “What, do you think someone murdered him?”  Cersei nipped at his chest.  “Did Baratheon Industries have Mafia problems?  Maybe someone put out a hit on him.”

“Jaime, _stop_ ,” Cersei said.  The chill in her voice was not forced.

“Sorry,” he said.  “I’m no good at dealing with sad things.  Our doctor said maybe we should have gone to therapy after our mom died, but you guys know how Tywin is.”  Cersei felt a familiar prodding against her hipbone and cringed.  _Really, Jaime?  Not here.  Not now._ “He wasn’t interested in anyone’s opinion but his own.”

Cersei wiped her eyes on the sleeve of Jaime’s suit jacket  (his black one, not his best navy blue one, neither Lannister twin looked their best in black) and turned back around, stepping away from Jaime’s body but keeping herself in front of him so no one noticed he’d gotten an erection while hugging his twin sister at her husband’s funeral.  _He is having too much fun_. 

“You two were unhappy together, weren’t you?” Stannis asked, pointing his jutting jaw at Cersei far too accusingly for her personal taste.  She could feel Jaime’s energy bristle, though she wasn’t touching him.  No doubt he was suppressing the urge to give Stannis a black eye.  And he was just as in the dark about Robert’s death as the rest of them.  He’d do it just because.

“Stannis!” Selyse sighed, and Renly and Loras pulled out their phones and began texting in unison.

“We had our disagreements, yes,” Cersei said, digging her nails into her palms.  “But we should let the dead _rest_ , shouldn’t we?”

In the silence Cersei half-watched Shireen combing her lank hair over the left side of her face.  Some people could never hide anything…But some people _could._

Cersei wiped away one last tear.  The cold humidity prickled at her hairline; the golden curls would be frizzy later if she stayed outside much longer.  Clouds hung still in the air, heavy and waiting.

“I’m not feeling too well,” she said.  “I should probably head to the limo, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Oh, of _course_ ,” Loras said, his eyelashes fluttering.

“And we should check on Father, too,” Jaime said.  He slid his right arm through Cersei’s left.  She hoped no one was looking at him below the waist.  “I’ll help you so you don’t fall on your ass in those heels.”

Cersei smiled up at him.  The grey sky and the dead branches and the wind couldn’t cloud the way his green eyes glittered.

As they wove their way through the gravestones Cersei slid her phone out of her bag with her free hand.  She was grateful to see a text from the only person she trusted (other than Jaime, of course, but she didn’t usually count him—Jaime was a part of her, after all) waiting on the screen.  Taena was at JFK en route to a family wedding in Italy and so couldn’t be present for today’s farce.  _That’s all right.  One fewer opinion to worry about._

 _Hey lady,_ Taena had written, _thinking about you right now.  Did it go ok?  How do you feel?_

Cersei unlaced her arm from Jaime’s.  She wrote back _Great.  I’ve never felt better in my life._

There were times when she _had_ felt better, but not even Taena could know about those.  No one could.

“You need to be more _careful_ , Jaime,” she hissed at him.

“What did I do?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” she said.  “You’re not sixteen.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, sweet sister.”

Cersei made sure to step on his toe, glaring up at him.  “You can’t just…”  She wasn’t stupid enough to say it out loud.  “You have to _control_ yourself.”

Jaime smirked.  Cersei wanted to slap it right off his face, but she knew they’d both like that a little too much.  “You’re going to make me tempted to kick Father and Tyrion out of the limo and fuck you in it.  You’d like that.  I know you would.”

“ _Jaime._ ”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”  He squeezed her hand.  “I’m just so excited you’re mine now.”

“I’m not yours here,” Cersei said.  “Not yet.”

Their uncle Kevan joined them then, thankfully bringing their conversation to a close.  Lancel was with him, his face looking even pastier than usual above his burgundy sweater.  _Oh, Lancel.  Lancel Lancel Lancel._ Cersei had taken great pleasure in watching him throughout the day.  He had seemed terribly caught between being unable to take his eyes off the modest amount of leg her black dress showed ( _this insanity runs in our family, doesn’t it?_ ) and avoiding her gaze.

“You look as unhappy as _they_ do,” Jaime said to Kevan, waving his hand in the direction of the knot of Baratheons.

“Well, my son over here has chosen today, of all days, to announce that he’s decided to go off to St. Joseph’s Seminary in the fall.  If he gets into any of his dream schools next week, he’ll turn them down.”

Cersei wasn’t sure if she’d heard right.  Tywin was atheist to a fault (she’d never forget the lecture he’d given her when he’d caught her praying after Mother died), and no Lannister had ever had much cause to fear God.  With decades of family wealth at their disposal, she imagined they could probably _buy_ God if the opportunity presented itself.  “You want to be a priest, Lancel?”

“You better watch out,” Jaime said.  “You’ve heard about those priests that like to fuck little boys, haven’t you?”

“I’m not _little_ ,” Lancel snapped.  “I’m seventeen and I can make my _own_ decisions.  I want to be holy.  I want to…”  He seemed lost for a moment.  “ _Right wrongs._ ”

“So why not go to the police academy, then?” Jaime asked.  “Or law school?”

“He says I won’t be able to talk him out of it,” Kevan said.

“Lancel, if you go to seminary you’ll have to take a vow of celibacy,” Cersei said, softening her voice as much as she could.  Lancel’s green eyes connected sharply with her own, fear wavering through them.  “That wouldn’t be fun for you, would it?”  He looked so much like Jaime had when they were seventeen…

The images slashed through her mind unbidden.  She did not want to remember them.  _Glasses of wine.  Coldplay, or whatever band it was that he likes so much.  Lancel, I need your help.  Yes, your help.  Not even Jaime can help.  Won’t you?  I have no one else._

_It’ll be so easy to make it look like an accident._

_Here, look what’s under my scarf.  I was so scared, Lancel…No, you can’t touch the bruises.  You’ll hurt me._

_But that’s why I need you, Lancel.  You like to right wrongs, don’t you?  It makes you feel good.  You’ve always liked to do the right thing, even when you were a kid._

_Of course I remember what you were like.  I was seventeen when you were born._

_Thank you, thank you.  Thank you._

_Lancel, has anyone ever kissed you?_

She blinked, breaking the stare.  If she never thought about any of this again, it would all disappear.  _Dreams turn to dust in the light of day_ , Taena always said to her.  _Bad dreams never come true_ , Melara used to say, long ago.

“Hey, maybe he’ll become one of those silent monks,” Jaime said, as if he’d read her mind.  “Would you like that, Lancel?  You’d have to be quiet while the priest touched your dick, though.”

“Jesus, Jaime!” their uncle spluttered.  “Would you watch it in front of him?”

Cersei was done with today, with her mourning clothes, with the Baratheons, with _everything_.  They were almost at the limo now, and even Tyrion’s unneeded wit and Father’s decay was better than all this _pretending._ She’d eat just a salad at the post-funeral dinner.  Jaime had a feast waiting for them back at his apartment.  There would be lobster and steak and the most expensive wines he could hunt down and....

The wind blew ragged and fierce through the cemetery, urging them out, and Cersei suddenly imagined not Robert’s hands at her throat, but her hands melding with Jaime’s and the two of them moving as one, squeezing the life out of the scumbag til his stomach stopped jiggling and his chest no longer rose and fell.

The thought made her dig her nails into Jaime’s arm and he looked down at her with pleased hunger in his eyes, and she thought it might be a while before they got to eat their victory banquet.  After all, there were quite a lot of flat surfaces between Jaime’s doorway and his kitchen, and she felt a pressing urge to have the sad black dress ripped off of her.  That way she’d never have to wear it again.

“Lancel, come ride in the limo with your favorite cousins,” she said as Jaime opened the door for her.  “Come on.  We want to know all about how you’ve found God.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as part of a series I've been planning of ASOIAF modern AU fics, of which this is still the only existing work. Hopefully more will be coming along soon!
> 
> The title comes from the song "Awakening" by Lucinda Williams.


End file.
